An Adjective is not a Verb
by tuesdayswithsir
Summary: An Adjective is not a Verb. A name is not a label. You are what you are not, and everything you cannot be.


He can't tell the difference between nouns, and adjectives, and verbs and all the possible subheadings that words are conjugated under because honestly, and truthfully speaking - How does the subjugation of these groupings help anyone to coherently form sentences?

Shouldn't the use of words come naturally to someone? You never consider that angry is an adjective before you place in it ink. Neither do you consider the difference between the verb, and noun: wile. You just use it anyway.

_English lessons are a waste of time._ He thinks. It is barely 15 minutes into the lesson and he cannot fathom how anyone can blindly accept the abhorrence of the lesson. Like, what if epiphany decides that he wants to be an adjective, rather than a noun? Labels, above personal freedom eh? _ And we call ourselves a democratic nation. Joke's on who?_

The social divide prepositioned has been set in stone but English lessons are still mandatory in school because the Fourth World declares that English is now the first language that every country speaks. Russia speaks English. The Chinese speak English. Somewhere in China, within rubble and stone, Lao Tzi and Confucius tongues' are rolling with Soliloquy with the complete elimination of their roots. The Fourth World believes in commodity – they say, and what better way to promote commodity, but with language?

He pushes his sleeves to show a visible amount of flesh, where 5 numbers are engraved on his wrist. The wonder of how the engraving was carved had long surpassed him at a tender age- There is no need for him to know anymore because the system has worked its mechanics and he knows how it is done without anyone telling him.

_24601. _He thinks of the irony so prevalent since he shares the same engravings as Jean Valjean from Hugo's Les Miserables. The book was banned a few years ago in America because of the message that was sublimed within Hugo's novel: Freedom, independence, fighting for the betterment of the country. He had read it because before Papa was apprehended, they had spent their nights together reading this book that was passed down from generations ago. They had laughed that he and Valjean shared the same numbers, and perhaps, he would become as heroic as Valjean was the Collaborates turned his house over and took away most of Auden's poems and copies of Orwell and Golding, the first thing he did was to find the book and to hide it in his jacket until they left. They never bothered searching him because he was young, and Collaborates are afraid of kids because they are vulnerable, fragile, and they are prone to such an abundance of emotions that is too much for them.

Brushing his fingers lightly over the engravings, he realizes that nobody but him knows the significance of the five numbers. To others, he is just 24601. Not one of his classmates have heard of Les Miserables, and even then, he doesn't dare to ask them if they know about it. The uncertainty of being rattled on with the knowledge of him knowing any ounce of literature is just danger waiting to be discovered.

_Hugo. Papa's name for me._Also the reason for Papa's capture. _Hugo._In remembrance of a great author that lost his name in the _righteous_path of achieving social stability. _Hugo._Hugo is not his name. His name is 24601.

_No. A label. I am a label. I am society's personal, branded puppet. Strings that will control me and no one will ever cut me loose. I will hang there, and I will move my limbs when I am forced to. I am 24601, a label._

24601 waits for the incessant dribble of words to curve in and out of his head. Occasionally, he brushes his fingers over the numbers again and remembers Valjean's words, "If I take Cosette, I take her, that is all. you will not know my name, you will not know my abode, you will not know where she goes, and my intention is that she shall never see you again in her life. I'll cut the rope she's tethered by, and off she goes. Do you agree to that? Yes or no?"

_I'll cut the rope she's tethered by, and off she goes._

The bell rings. Off he goes. The strings are still adjourned. The labels are still there. Today, he feels like a epiphany. He's a verb, but he wants to be a noun.

Today, he's 24601, but he wants to be Hugo.


End file.
